Don't Look Back by S. B. Hayes

wore it. My spine tingled. I hadn’t expected to find him so soon.
    â€˜My brother Patrick?’ I repeated. ‘He replied to your job advert.’
    She might have knitted her brow, although the pattern of deep furrows made it difficult to tell. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she replied stiffly. ‘We never advertise.’
    Liar, I thought. ‘But you’ve taken on new staff?’
    â€˜We have had no new workers here. You should go. Leave by the path that brought you here – the grounds are not safe for strangers.’
    I stared at her mutinously, furious at being dismissed like this. I made a decision to ignore her. I began to head towards the house, but her voice stopped me in my tracks.
    â€˜How did you get in without an invitation?’
    What did she mean by an invitation?
    â€˜The gate was … sort of open,’ I lied, and then lied some more. ‘I … erm … knocked at the gatehouse, but no one answered.’
    â€˜You shouldn’t have come, it must be a mistake –’
    She suddenly froze and put one hand across her heart, her breathing alarmingly shallow. I wondered what could have affected her so badly. She moved closer, and I had tostop myself from flinching. One of her bony hands touched me, but it was in a strange patting gesture, as if she was checking I was actually flesh and blood. She muttered something to herself, which I strained to hear. ‘If the house has chosen you to stay, then it’s out of my hands. But why now, after all this time?’
    My stomach curdled and I wondered if Patrick had had the same reception. What had he got himself into this time? This place was so remote that anything could be going on. I decided to tackle her again, making sure my voice sounded confident.
    â€˜I know my brother came here. This is his Saint Christopher medal. He told his neighbours he’d recently started a job and I’m sure he answered your advert in the local paper.’
    â€˜Is that all?’ she asked.
    I couldn’t help myself. I put my hands on my hips, half wishing Harry was here to restrain me. ‘No, it isn’t all. He left me … messages, some in Latin, but everything led me here. There’s no mistake. This is where Patrick meant me to come.’
    Her withered fingers interlaced. ‘Then I believe you. The answers you’re seeking must lie here.’
    â€˜The answers you’re seeking must lie here.’ Why did she speak in riddles?
I narrowed my eyes. ‘So where is my brother?’
    â€˜Only you can find him,’ she answered, ‘if you truly wish it.’
    â€˜Of course I want to find him, but where is he?’
    â€˜We can take you on for a trial period of fourteen days.’
    I looked at her in horror. ‘You expect me to work here?’
    â€˜For fourteen days,’ she repeated, ‘and then you’ll have your answers.’
    I made a noise of disbelief. ‘You really think I’d agree to something like that? Give me one good reason why I should?’
    â€˜I recognize the hunger in your eyes,’ she answered. ‘You can’t let this opportunity go. You’ll do exactly what I ask of you – we both know it.’
    This was so bizarre that I was rendered speechless, my mind racing with wild thoughts. I could phone Mum and tell her to call the police but it would be my word against that of a nun, albeit a seriously creepy nun. I opened my mouth to protest again but closed it, realizing I’d been backed into a corner. What other options did I have? If I refused, I’d have no other way to follow Patrick. She was right; I was hungry to find him and I couldn’t let this go. But she wouldn’t get the better of me. I’d agree to work here, but only to get my foot in the door so I could search for Patrick. I wasn’t going to actually graft in some dusty old heap, and definitely not for fourteen days.
    Although